


It Happened Quiet

by callmesigyn



Series: Firebird [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Aurora - Freeform, Canon - Book, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Future Fic, He's an ugly dog but he's my ugly dog, Inspired by Music, Near Future, Rescue Missions, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sneaky Bastards, The Quiet Isle, gravedigger - Freeform, sneaky bastards everywhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 19:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18784933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmesigyn/pseuds/callmesigyn
Summary: Alayne Stone may not know the Brother of the Faith standing in front of her, but Sansa Stark did... She’d missed him.





	It Happened Quiet

The dark velvet of her gown clung to her new-found curves in ways that made Petyr’s eyes follow every breath she took, every sigh that escaped her lips. By the grace of the gods, the carriage rocked and locks of dull brown hair fell like curtains on her chest, hiding it from her father’s view. A cry from the coachman announced their arrival to the Quiet Isle, much to Alayne’s dismay. It was the first time she left the Eyrie after being reborn. Sansa Stark went up the mountain and Alayne Stone came down. Still, no words of encouragement from Petyr could wipe the fear in her. _Alayne is an older woman and bastard brave_ – the ever present and the ever silent chant always on her lips.

  
“Welcome, my darling daughter, to the Quiet Isle”, Petyr said while holding out his hand for her, a fawning smile gracing his features. Although it brought her nothing but disgust.

  
_Alayne is an older woman and bastard brave_.

  
“Not a particularly impressive sight”, Alayne said, taking in the thick mudflats, wind carved rocks, twisted trees and a faraway windmill.

  
Not so far away, however, was a man – larger than a man had any right to be – limped by the side of the sea, busy digging. She watched him dig. Grave after grave after grave – he never stopped. After the war, the graves never seemed to end. Every mile a tomb, every family a sorrow. Still, the big man flowered something akin to hope inside her, though she did not know why.

  
An unavailing laugh from her father was enough for Alayne to break free from her own thoughts, turning away from the gravedigger to rest in one of the women’s cottages while Petyr discussed his affairs with the Elder Brother. Which affairs were these she didn’t care for. As long as the shorter man wasn’t stealing kisses from her, she couldn’t care less about his affairs.

  
Niggardly, her thoughts became those of a dead child’s as she remembered another kiss, also stolen, but not unwelcomed now.

  
Lady Stark may have remained a child all her life, but the Stone bastard grew out of the stories about comely knights and fair maidens. In the solitude of her rooms in the Eyrie, Alayne dreamt depraved dreams of the things dogs could do to wolves.

  
She considered dreaming such things again right where she sat on the bed, but shook it off. It wouldn’t do to sin surrounded by men of the Faith, and Petyr. The idea that he could ever see her in such a state made her shudder, repulsed. Her thoughts once again drifted to the Hound. Would he like to see her in such position? Could she let him? She knew Sansa couldn’t, but she was no Sansa.

  
_Alayne is an older woman and bastard brave._

  
Footsteps outside her accommodations invited her out of her reverie. Alayne let out a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding at seeing Petyr’s face.

  
He smirked. “Glad to see me, I hope?”

  
How could she vomit in a polite way? She wondered.

  
“What did you discuss with the Elder Brother?” She asked instead.

  
“ _Alayne..._ ” He began. “You know that there’s nothing more I would like than to share everything with you, but there are things you don’t need to know”.

  
It was futile to ask if he should be the one to decide her fate. She knew now that she had no real choice when it came to him. He rescued a poor deer from the lions only to eat its carcass himself.

  
“Did you get what you wanted?”

  
_This. This_ he would share with her. He would smile and boost about his deeds and in that, he would give her what she really wanted. She measured his desires and wants in the various ways his eyes would gleam, the various ways his brows would move, the wrinkles near his eyes would sing and his mouth would twitch.

After he left with the promise of coming back in the night for her, Alayne wrapped herself in a cloak and walked across the island, the mud staining her boots and clothes, but she continued without mourning. Petyr would just gift her with more. After all, bastard as she was, he couldn’t do with his doted daughter adorned with nothing but rags.

  
She needed not wonder very far until she came across a cave. As a child, she’d read about it. It had been the home of the first holy man in the isle, and currently stood as a house to the Elder Brother. Not wanting to disturb him, Alayne curved to move past it. She was trapped, however, as a hand gripped her forearm – thought not ungentle – and pushed her inside a cottage. She tried to struggle. Tried to scratch and bite her attacker, but he stood unmoved.

  
Opening the eyes she had closed in fear, Alayne looked up to the ugly face of Sandor Clegane.

  
“You’ve flown far, Little Bird”, he said in a troubled voice, seemingly years unused.

  
“You mistake me, my lord”

  
She watched his winsome grey eyes turn from irritated worry to confusion in a matter of seconds. Alayne Stone may not know the Brother of the Faith standing in front of her, but Sansa Stark did... She’d missed him. Strange as it may be, she missed Sandor’s ways, most of all his honesty. His beastly words were direct and true, no honeyed lies to fill the silence Sansa so enjoyed. But she was Sansa no longer.

  
“What?”

 

A deep breath.

  
_Alayne is an older woman and bastard brave._

  
“Haven’t you heard, my lord? Sansa Stark was killed by the hands of pirates in the Free Cities”.

  
“Who put you up to this?” He asked, his rage returned. “Littlefinger?”

  
“My father-“

  
A strangled laugh escaped him, making the ruined piece of flesh on his face twitch unconsciously.

  
“Father, is he? Tell me, what has your _father_ done to you?”

  
The memories of wandering hands, too wet lips and most certainly non-fatherly squeezes rushed in. A single tear fell from her blue eyes. Such an undeniable Tully blue. At seeing her trembling lips, Sandor’s face went soft. Gently, he pulled her close until her head was resting on his chest. Even after she'd grown taller than any other men she had been forced to endure, even then, _he_ still dwarfed her by far. She buried her face on his pectoral and clung to his waist as she felt his hands scrubbing her hair and she just knew he was trying to see it back to its original auburn colour.

  
“Little Bird...” He whispered in her hair.

  
Moving her face away from the safe enclosure of his form, Sansa touched her lips to his. Dry and simple and nothing more, yet it meant everything. Gazing into his eyes, she knew he understood it as a plea for help.

  
“I have died many times and yet you’re always there to meet me, in my thoughts. They never stray far... _Sandor_ ”.

  
The sound of his name on her lips seemed to ignite something within him. Sandor took Sansa by the hip and pulled her even closer, making her wrap her muddy stockings around his waist, their foreheads pressed together. But he did not kiss her. She knew he wanted to, could basically feel the heat coming from him, yet he did not kiss her.

  
_Alayne is an older woman and bastard brave._

  
She made a move to touch their lips together once again, but he turned his head for her to face his scars. Perhaps to scare her off. She touched her lips to them, what should have scared her before did not anymore. His eyes widened and he groaned as he let her kiss his scars then the corner of his mouth.

  
“You don’t have to love me. I’m not the same girl I was before”.

  
His eyes turned sad then. He stroked her cheek with one hand and let her down on the floor.

  
“Pack your things, we leave now”, he said, picking up an axe from under his bedding.

  
Feeling guilty for letting her clothes get dirty, Sansa replied: “I don’t have any things”.

  
He turned to her, once again a quaint sadness in his eyes, before taking her hand and whisking them away to the stables, where he left her for a while before returning with a simple gown for her and a sack full of bread for their journey. He helped her on Stranger and climbed behind her, pulling her possessively toward him by the waist.

  
Their chances were slim, but they both knew they couldn’t let the odds stop them. A sort of quiet understanding wove through them. It was escape or death. And Sansa wouldn’t let herself become Alayne again.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by AURORA's "It Happened Quiet"


End file.
